


Smoke

by oclark1226



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Geralt Saves a Child, Happy Ending, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Saves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Mostly hurt though, Near Death Experiences, One Shot, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:09:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22072297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oclark1226/pseuds/oclark1226
Summary: Geralt, being a witcher, is immune to a great many things. Smoke, however, is not one of them.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 216





	Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> Started this feeling very platonic about these two but ended feeling a little romantic, so it can be however you want to interpret it. Either way, that's not really the focus. I watched the Netflix series and now I have the Wild Hunt to play and hopefully I'll get my hands on the books soon, so I don't have a lot of knowledge in this fandom yet, but this little story wouldn't leave me alone, so let me know what you think.

Geralt and Jaskier stopped in a small village for the night after a particularly irksome day. Geralt had accepted a job to rid another town of its monster, but the “monster” had turned out to be a group of peasant children, stealing and wreaking havoc as they deemed fit. Still, it was clear that they were in dire need of better nutrition, so the pair took pity on them.

Seeing as there was no monster to slay, Geralt had not been paid. In addition to that, Jaskier had insisted on buying a meal for the children. Five in all, they’d eaten their fill and left without a word when Geralt and Jaskier had left them alone for but a moment. That left the two fresh out of coin and work for the day. And with the children on the loose again, the village shooed them out for ultimately accomplishing nothing. 

Jaskier spent the rest of the day feeling guilty while Geralt said even less than usual, too caught up in his foul mood. When they reached the next village, Geralt immediately ordered the strongest drinks available at the tavern while Jaskier moped in their room at the inn. He halfheartedly played his lute and sang some of the more depressing tunes he knew, wishing for company but knowing Geralt needed to blow off some steam on his own. 

Meanwhile, Geralt drank until he could no longer tolerate the whispers, stares, and threats coming from the other patrons. He set his cup down with a growl and stormed off to the room he was sharing with Jaskier for the night. 

Before Jaskier could attempt to lighten Geralt’s mood, they both heard the sound of a voice screaming out, “Fire, fire! Someone help, please!” Jaskier looked to Geralt, waiting for his reaction. With a sigh, Geralt simply turned around and went out the door he hadn’t even shut yet. Jaskier scurried out after him, leaving his lute behind.

Outside, someone’s house was up in flames just a short distance from the inn. If it wasn’t stopped soon, the house next to it was going to catch too. Geralt ran towards the blaze and found the woman he’d heard yelling from the room. 

“Is there anyone-“ he started.

“My sons are still inside. Please, witcher, you have to help,” she sobbed. A man, presumably her husband, had his hands on her shoulders and nodded at Geralt. “We’ll pay whatever you want. Just, please, save them.”

Without another word, Geralt ran through the door. _Shit, didn’t catch names._ “Talk to me! Where are you?” he shouted into the heat. He coughed on the smoke and knelt down, staying low to the ground. “Hello?” he yelled again.

“Here, here, I’m here!” called out a voice. _Sounded pretty young. Better get to him fast._

The voice had come from somewhere to his right, but he could see wooden beams had fallen from the ceiling and were blocking his way. _Can’t use magic; this place is too unstable._ Coughing again, he did his best to climb through the beams without knocking them out of position. Once he reached the other side, he called out again.

“I’m here!” The voice was closer, but sounding weaker. Geralt heard the boy coughing and held his breath, trying to listen. Advancing toward the noise, he squinted, finally seeing a small hand waving frantically from behind a dresser. More wooden beams had fallen, this time from both the ceiling and the walls. With a grimace, Geralt worked his shoulders underneath some beams that were still somewhat upright, then stood, holding them out of the way. The smoldering beams hissed against his armor and the uncovered skin of his neck. The kid caught on quickly and rushed out, allowing Geralt to gently lower the beams back down with a pained groan.

Before he could take a moment to recover, there was a crash from the ceiling followed by a yell and Geralt’s head snapped in its direction. More smoke had made its way into his lungs and he was immobilized for a moment, bent over and coughing hard. Starting to feel dizzy, he made his way back through the maze of beams from before and found what remained of the staircase. It took all of his focus to clamber his way up the less burnt wood without falling back down. 

Once he reached the top, he tried to shout for the other boy, but lost his voice to another fit of coughing. He dropped down to his hands and knees to get out of the worst of the smoke, but it was even thicker on the second level than it was on the first. 

“Kid! Talk to me! Where are you!” He yelled into the smoke and flames. There was no reply. _Fuck. That crash might’ve knocked him out. Gotta find him myself._

Geralt held his shirt to his mouth as he crawled across the floor, praying that the wood wouldn’t give out beneath him. He reached the corner of the house where the roof had partially caved in, allowing some of the smoke to escape. With it being a little easier to breathe, Geralt let go of his shirt and started digging through the rubble. Lungs heaving with exertion, he started coughing again, feeling another wave of dizziness hit him. Soon, he found a boot, which led to a leg, and then the rest of the child. Hoisting the kid into his arms, he made his way back into the worst of the smoke, feeling choked and breathless the whole way. 

He reached the broken staircase again and paused. With his arms full, he had no idea how to get down. Instead of trying to figure that out. Geralt simply kicked at the wall next to him until he made a decent sized hole in it. 

“Someone get over here!” he yelled between coughs. Vison blurred by his watering eyes, he managed to make out someone standing below, arms open and ready to catch the child. Leaning out as far as he dared, he reached out and dropped the kid into waiting arms. As he leaned back, he heard the floor creak beneath him. Before he could move, the wood gave way under him and he hit the ground hard on his back. 

Blinking the dust and tears from his eyes, Geralt gasped for breath. The harsh landing had knocked the wind out of him and the only air he could get was full of smoke. Coughing harder than before, he struggled to get onto his hands and knees. His vision was starting to go dark and he couldn’t breathe, only cough, gasp, and repeat. He could just see the doorway several yards in front of him, but his arms gave out and everything went black before he could make it any farther. 

Jaskier had followed Geralt out of the inn and into the street, but the witcher was not easy to keep up with. By the time he reached the house, Geralt had disappeared inside, leaving everyone else to wait helplessly. They heard muffled shouting coming from inside and after a couple minutes, one child ran out, stumbling and coughing, into his parents’ arms. The little boy was enveloped in a tearful hug before he turned back to the house, now waiting with them. 

“Come on, Geralt. You can’t die on me now. Always thought you’d go out fighting monsters or something anyways,” Jaskier muttered to himself, eyes searching the house for any signs of life. There was a sudden crash and he could see that part of the roof had fallen in. A fresh wave of cries rang out from the crowd, who were getting more and more anxious by the second. Another minute passed before Geralt’s voice could be heard calling out by the side of the house. The father rushed over and Jaskier saw the other boy drop from the second level into the man’s arms. It wasn’t the most graceful catch, but the kid was out of danger. 

Before the crowd could cheer, another crash came from inside the house.

“Geralt?! Geralt!” Jaskier yelled, rushing towards the doorway. Someone else grabbed him by the shoulders, holding him back. 

“Son, you can’t go in there. That house is gonna collapse any minute now,” the man said, looking sadly at Jaskier. Shoving the man’s arms off of him, he rushed into the house, ignoring the people calling him back out. 

Instantly, the intense heat and smoke struck him and left him coughing, and his eyes watering. Still, he tried to call out for Geralt before he spotted a flash of silver several feet in front of him. There Geralt laid, unconscious and still reaching out to the door. Still coughing, Jaskier struggled to get his arms around Geralt’s torso and shoulders. He quickly gave up on much lifting and settled for dragging Geralt out, passing out as soon as they were a few yards outside the doorway. 

Geralt awoke with a gasp, setting off a long coughing fit. Someone’s hand was rubbing circles on his back and murmuring nonsense to him in a calming manner. Once he could breathe again, he laid back on the cot he realized he was on, suddenly exhausted and hearing the awful quality of his breathing. His lungs hurt and protested every breath he sucked in and there was a soft wheezing sound accompanying them.

“You gave me quite the scare, Geralt,” a voice chuckled next to him. Turning, he saw Jaskier sitting on a cot next to his, his laughs becoming coughs but the smile never leaving his face. With a wince, Jaskier put an arm around his middle. “You seem to love tempting fate,” he said in a more somber tone. He laid back down on the cot and Geralt noticed his breathing had a similar strained sound to it.

“What happened?” Geralt whispered. His voice was shot from all the coughing and he was too exhausted to talk much more. 

“Well, you ran into a burning house, got the kids out, and nearly died,” Jaskier recounted, just out of his field of vision. “Lucky for you, your friend was there to save the day!” This overly cheery statement was followed by another coughing fit. Jaskier caught his breath as Geralt mulled over that information. 

“You saved me?” Geralt asked doubtfully.

There was an indignant sound from Jaskier followed by him replying, “Yes, I did. I very much did, Geralt. You were laying there, near death, and I had to drag you out of that cursed house before you stopped breathing entirely.” No matter how nonchalant Jaskier tried to sound, the honesty and fear broke through in his voice. He was terrified that Geralt wasn’t going to make it. 

“You can’t just keep throwing yourself into danger like that, you know,” Jaskier continued in a softer voice. “One of these times, luck may not be on your side,” he trailed off, giving in to his exhaustion and slipping into peaceful unconsciousness.

Geralt listened as Jaskier’s breathing evened out and quiet snores reached his ears. His own breathing sounded loud in the suddenly quiet room. He considered getting up, figuring out where he was and what had happened, but his chest protested even the smallest movements. He was going to be feeling the smoke’s effects for some time after this, depending on just how long he had been in the burning house.

He pondered Jaskier’s words and the truth within them. He definitely had a knack for throwing himself into danger, but that wasn’t entirely his fault. That was just the life of a witcher. If Jaskier stuck around long enough, he might eventually figure out that life-threatening danger was just another day for him. For now, his body was aching and his lungs continued to remind him of the damage done. Still listening to Jaskier’s breathing next to him, Geralt closed his eyes and let sleep take him, however long it needed to.


End file.
